Finding a Princess: A Tin Man Quest
by Flipping Seltzer
Summary: AU. DG never left the O.Z. but went into hiding with Ahamo. The Mystic Man sends Cain on a mission to find the missing princess and save the kingdom. Cain is less than thrilled.


I disclaim.

AN: A.U. fic. Instead of sending DG to the Otherside, her mother sent her with Ahamo to the Realm of the Unwanted. Azkadellia still took over the kingdom and imprisoned the queen, but she never stole Ambrose's brain, just his invention. Ambrose, Ahamo, and DG went undercover in the underground city, clandestinely helping the resistance and working to take back the kingdom. Some think that the youngest princess died but most assume she's in hiding somewhere or being held by the witch. DG knows that the witch has taken aver Az's body and is searching for a way to save her sister and destroy the evil inside of her. Tutor is a prisoner and Raw is on the run after fleeing the fortress. Cain is still a tin man in Central City, although the longcoats have taken over most of the tin men duties. Adora died—she was killed by Zero when she took the fall for Cain's resistance activities. He was in the city and didn't hear about his wife's death until too late—Jeb has never forgiven his father for what he sees as abandoning his mother and they are estranged. Cain still participates in resistance activities, but drinks heavily so isn't the important figure he could have been. The Mystic Man isn't on the vapors—he knows DG is alive—but is laying low and doing as Azkadellia says to avoid trouble.

Our story begins a little earlier than the series. Az's men have just gotten orders to capture the Mystic Man and bring him to the witch. Cain is going on duty, slightly drunk, and DG and Ambrose are hiding.

Prologue: A New Duty

Wyatt stumbled out of Tin Man Headquarters, cursing just about everything he could think of in his tipsy state. His lieutenant had just let him have it for drinking before work, but as far as Cain was concerned the man could shove it up his ass. Even three pints in, the older tin man was still a better cop than most of the guys who were left on the force. He'd know—he had to train most of the jackasses. Not that tin man was a very sought after position any more. Cain could remember the day when it meant something to carry tin, but now… half the men had left to become longcoats and those that had stayed… Let's just say law and order was only enforced when credits and favors were given.

Could anyone blame him for showing up soused?

He stopped halfway to the Mystic Man's, resting against a tarnished steel support wall. Who would blame him? Adora would have. She'd have tanned his ass, grown man who was her husband notwithstanding. It meant something, to be tin, and here he was, barely able to proceed the half a mile to his protection duty. Pathetic.

Sobering up even as he mentally slapped himself, he started on his way again, wondering when his city had become so unfamiliar and corrupt. Several ladies of the night stepped up as he approached then eased back into the shadows when they saw it was him. Drunk or not, Cain had never forgotten his duty to the city, and he never took bribes and was just as willing to arrest or throw someone around, even if the politics of the city meant they'd be out by nightfall.

He took the steps of the Mystic Manor a with a little more grace than he'd managed the station steps, nodding to the fresh faced kid guarding the door. The boy straightened up a little, face flashing with panic, and Cain felt better. Good to know he could still put the fear of god in subordinates. Walking in, he felt more at home than he had in a few days. He'd been working this detail for years, and the place welcomed him like an old friend, dust and light swirling the same as always around his fedora. He knew it was only the Mystic Man's kindness that kept him from being fired or brought up on charges of resistance, and in return he helped the old man steer clear of the rough longcoats like Zero, who felt that the undeclared mayor of the city should remember his place. Speaking of longcoats…

A long leather duster laid on the back of a chair, out of place in the usually untouched front parlor. Unsnapping his holster, Wyatt pulled his gun out a little, undoing the safety as he walked towards the study. Voices, one familiar and one unknown, leaked from the door, cracked open an inch or two. "I'm telling you, you need to go now!"

The old man sighed, and Cain could imagine him easing back in his chair, face troubled. "Where would I go that Azkadellia could not find me? No. This is my city, I stay here."

"Don't be a fool old man! This isn't your city any longer—she controls everything… Go to the girl. She can hide you, she hides herself well enough."

"I will not be leaving this house."

Something thudded against the wall and Cain edged forward, ready to spring into action if he heard any sign of pain. "What good can I do if you don't heed my warnings? Even now Zero is on his way—you will be leaving—by your own will or his." The door slammed open. A tall, broad longcoat general stood there, a sour look on his face. Seeing Cain he spat on the floor, "Perfect. A _tin_ _man_—perhaps he can save you from your stubbornness." The sarcasm was clear. He strode from the room, calling back, "this was a courtesy for the princess William—I won't help you again." Standing where he was, the tin man could hear the sweeping leather and slamming door as the surly guard stormed out.

"Come in Cain—shut the door. Thank you lad." The old man was sitting in his chair, just as Wyatt had imagined, his face a grave map of worries and knowledge.

Moving to take off his own duster, Cain chuckled, enough alcohol still in him to find that statement amusing. "I'm hardly a lad, Sir."

The older man smiled briefly himself. "You're young enough Cain. Don't take off your coat just yet—you'll be leaving. What was I saying?" He got up as the tin man paused, one arm halfway out of a sleeve. "Oh yes. How old are you man? Thirty five annuals? Trust an old man—thirty five is a good, young age. Plenty of life ahead of you—so long as you live it." He looked pointedly at the pocket where Wyatt kept his flask.

The blonde felt a blush rise on his neck and stuffed his arm back down the sleeve, angry at the words themselves and the embarrassment they caused. "I'm thirty nine. And not much to live for these days."

"Well—I'd say that's an answer that answers no question—only creates more."

Throwing himself into a chair, Cain glared at the magician. "Don't play your riddle game with me." He jerked his head at the closed door. "What was he talking about? Longcoats coming?"

"Now _that_ is a question." The old man walked over to his bookshelf and pulled down a tomb. Cain recognized the leather bound title as one of the man's most used magic books. He was always scribbling away in it when he had a moment. Cradling it in his hands a moment, the old man looked tired. Wyatt sat up, suddenly, inexplicably worried.

"Sir?"

"Don't call me sir Cain, you've known me too long." Out of nowhere, quickly the Mystic Man shoved the book into the tin man's hands. "This will guide your way—help you find the girl. Protect her."

The building was suddenly filled with bangs and rattles as the manor filled with what was unmistakably longcoat armor. Cain whirled around, book in one hand, gun in the other. "I don't understand. What's happening?"

"Here for me, for what I know." The old man opened a hidden doorway behind his desk and stepped in. "This way!"

After a moment's hesitation, Cain dove in after him. The second the door was shut, Cain could hear the study door being kicked in. Silently, the Mystic Man tugged Wyatt down the passageway and then up a sewage ladder. Coming out a few blocks away from the house, they surfaced in an alley, where Cain promptly threw his charge against the wall. "What in the O.Z. is going on?"

"They want the location of the princess."

"They work _for_ the princess!"

The Mystic Man leaned his old head against the wall, staring at Cain. "The _other _princess."

Cain let go in surprise. "Listen boy—we don't have much time. Long ago, I helped the youngest royal escape with her father—to a place where they couldn't be found. I don't know where they are-" he held up a hand at Cain wordless protest. "But I _do_ have the clues to her location. She is the key to saving the kingdom—to destroying the sorceress." He pointed to the book that Cain had dropped on the pavement. "All you need to know is in there. It's time for her to fulfill her destiny—to bring the light back. You have to protect her tin man! It's your new duty."

"I protect you! Now let's go—they're bound to have found that tunnel by now."

"No. _This_ is your new task Cain. A new something to live for. Help the princess! Save us all!" They were coming up the ladder now. He could hear them. From nowhere the Mystic Man pulled a small gun. "I don't leave this city." He looked oddly peaceful for a man about to be captured or die.

"Are you sure?" Cain had spent most of his career making sure this man stayed alive and now he was asking him to let him die? He'd failed at protecting everyone, his family— this was the one person he'd kept safe.

Smiling, the old man reached into Wyatt's coat pocket and pulled out the flask. "I'm sure boy. Now go! Go! Look to the north! Where do unwanted children flee?" Cain was already running, leaving his charge behind, his duty behind, the man's last words growing softer as the tin man fled. He stopped the catch his breath a mile or so away. He could still hear the gunshots though. A city of tarnished metal still echoed.

A hour later he was safely out of Central City, bunked down in the silent woods. Since his wife's death he'd rarely ventured from the loud metropolis, finding the oppressive silence of the woods too like his Adora's gravesite. He stared at the book that the Mystic Man had forced on him. "You'd better be worth it kid." Lying down, he used the damn thing as a pillow, already missing the comfort of a bottle of booze, tin star clutched tightly in his hand.

AN: So… it to continue?


End file.
